Silent Night
by Freckles-n-Feathers
Summary: What happens when Dean and Castiel lose their voices on Christmas Eve? This is part of the SPN Holiday Mixtape Collection on Ao3 and Tumblr.


Dean wakes up in a cheerful mood, his heart light, his mind already alert and sharp, in contrast to how he's usually been waking up in the last few years.

It's Christmas eve and today he gets to take advantage of the bunker's kitchen, something he hasn't done in a long time, too long to be exact. He will be preparing the feast for this evening, along with Bobby's kick ass eggnog, which he swore would put hair on their chests (sorry Mom).

Slipping into his robe and slippers, he makes his way to the kitchen, hoping to find a nice full pot of coffee, made by Sam before Mom and his little brother took off to the state border for last minute gifts. And yes, it smells enticing as soon as he enters the room, so it doesn't take long for him to begin making himself a cup. Scrubbing his face, he sits down at the table, appreciating the fact that they don't have a job to do, nothing to investigate; seems like evil has taken a breather for a while and he can live with that.

A note sits atop the table and as he takes his first sip of coffee, he reads it. _"We'll be back around 7 -Sam"_

Dean sighs happily, as he sits back in his chair, bringing one leg over the other and contemplates the menu for this evening. He hasn't celebrated Christmas in… eons and the thought of all of them together in what they now call home, has him floating on cloud nine. What is even equally awesome is that Castiel and his mom will be a part of it as well. All of them, in the bunker, where they've been living together in somewhat peaceful harmony.

Mom is getting used to living with three full grown men, two of which are complete slobs: Sam and Cas, not Dean. He's not one to leave his socks all over the bunker, or dirty dishes in the sink. It's funny watching his angel act so utterly human since living with them, he's even retired his trenchcoat and ops to just walk around in his white button down and slacks, and even borrows Dean's duds on occasion. (Castiel in sweatpants and a washed out t-shirt is probably the greatest thing Dean's ever seen, but he'll keep that to himself, for obvious reasons.)

And Dean is getting used to the fact that his Mom is alive, there's no big bad hanging over their heads this year, and his best friend is living only one room away from him. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't elated to have him around, and this time, Castiel isn't fighting some holy war or trying to 'fix' Heaven. There's no mind control, or curses, or anything that's preventing them from re-establishing their friendship that has been strained for the last few years.

They really never had the chance to fix things, to re-bond, so to speak, and now they can, they _are._ Some nights are spent in Cas' room, binging shows with him - now that Sam hooked up a T.V. in there - and they'd sit in bed together, watching some random show in silence, and it's pretty weird that Dean doesn't even question it. In the past he would have shied away from being in bed with Castiel, let alone another man.

But it's strangely comforting.

And some nights he'd lie awake, knowing Cas is just a few feet away, and he'd imagine what would happen if he knocked on his door, took him into his arms, and kissed him. Of course, a thought like that would have Dean withdraw into himself and beg for such a fantasy to leave his brain immediately. Castiel is his friend, and Dean's 100% sure he doesn't feel the same way.

Okay, maybe 99% sure.

Dean's smirking with that image in his head when he hears his phone vibrate on the table, causing him to jump amidst the thick silence of the room. He looks at the display and when he sees it's Sam, he swipes it and holds it up to his ear.

But when he tries to talk, not a sound is uttered.

He brings the phone down in front of him and then tries to talk again, but with no luck. Panic overcomes him, and all he can hear now is his little brother on the other end. "Dean? Dean, are you there? Hello?"

He's mouthing the words "Yeah, I'm here, goddammit!" but when no sound is heard, he bounces to his feet and ends the call, frantically texting him.

 **"I can't talk. Something happened."**

Sam quickly replies, **"What? Like Laryngitis?"**

Dean ponders this and yeah, maybe that's what it is. Nothing supernatural about it. Just plain ole normal human sickness. So he replies with, **"I guess so"** and when Sam tells him to sit tight and they will pick up some tea and honey, Dean rests a little easier.

Better yet, Castiel will be able to heal him with a touch. Not a big deal. He can handle this.

At that thought, he finishes his coffee, feeling a little less on edge, and heads over to the refrigerator, now focusing on what to make for breakfast.

He wonders if Castiel will eat, not that he has to, but he's been effortlessly falling into this human lifestyle with them lately, even joining in on their morning coffee or evening dinners, and from what Dean can tell, he seems to be enjoying it.

A lot, actually.

So screw it, he'll make him some eggs and bacon too, because why eat alone anyway? He prepares the eggs by whisking them into a nice batter and pours it into the frying pan, next to the already sizzling bacon when Castiel enters the kitchen. Dean offers him a smile and is about to let him in on his throat situation when Castiel opens his mouth, a look of alarm on his face.

He mouths the word, "Dean" before grabbing his neck and glancing around the room in a panic. _So Castiel has this infection too? An angel?_ Castiel is making strange gestures, snapping his fingers, waiting for something to happen. He's looking at Dean now, placing two fingers on his forehead. His focus is hard, but…

Cas has no power.

Dean reaches for his phone and holds it up to Castiel, hoping he catches on and does the same. He does, and Dean quickly texts him that he has Laryngitis and he supposes Cas does too. But the angel isn't accepting this, as he shakes his head in protest. His slim fingers are almost pounding on the keypad of his phone and seconds later, Dean looks at his screen.

 **"I'm an angel. I don't get sick!"**

He's right, and now this has become a damn good reason to freak the hell out. And so he does, texting Sam again and telling him to come home right now - no side trips, no shopping lists, just get his ass back to the bunker with Mom so they can figure this thing out.

But before he can even wait for a reply, Castiel is racing towards the stairs, and Dean finds himself chasing after him. _Where is he going? What can he possibly find outside?_ He's reaching for him, grabbing onto Castiel's wrist, causing his friend to be jerked backwards.

Cas is looking down at Dean's hand which is gripping him tightly, and that's when Dean realizes what he's doing, so he releases his wrist, and then he rubs his palms against his thighs, trying to wipe away the clamminess. His face is on fire, and he wishes he didn't get so damned awkward at the slightest intimacy between them.

Dean glances at his phone and begins to text him. **"Where are you going?"**

Castiel waits for the message to go through and types back, **"To find out what's going on!"** and he actually _does_ use the three exclamation points, which at any other time would amuse Dean, but not now. Not when there is obviously some powerful hoodoo taking away their ability to speak and draining Cas of his mojo, to boot.

 **"Let's hit the internet. Maybe there's some spell reversal or something,"** Dean replies.

Castiel agrees and the two head down into the war room where the laptops are, and they get busy with research. Spotting the near full bottle of whiskey sitting on the table, almost beckoning for him to drink, Dean opts to pour them each a glass. He thinks to himself, _"It's Five o'clock somewhere,"_ after smirking at his friend.

Dean finds everything from hexes that remove your vocal chords, to post traumatic stress - which incidentally has nothing to do with hoodoo, and Dean just closes the laptop in defeat. He moves to the books, texts, anything and everything the Men of Letters archives has to offer and as hours pass and morning turns to afternoon, Dean's all but given up.

He's already beginning to feel a bit drunk as late afternoon sneaks up on them. Sighing, he leans back in his chair and watches Castiel. His brow furrows as he is determined to find an answer, but something in Dean knows that he will come up with bupkis, just like him.

So Dean texts him. **"Anything?"**

Cas shakes his head. **"O vaguely recall a spell that causes people to lose their voices for 24 hours, usually affecting those who have been holding in a lot of deep emotions. Usually around the holidays."**

 **"Any idea how this happened?"**

Cas shakes his head.

Dean closes his eyes as he brings his hands up to his face, and begins to massage his temples when his phone chimes and vibrates again. That's probably it, and God knows between the two of them, they have enough suppressed feelings to fill a room. He can handle twenty-four hours.

He looks down and sees the message from Cas. **"I'm sorry"**

Dean snaps his head back and stares up at his angel, shrugging. **"For what?"** he texts back.

 **"For being powerless. For not being able to help you"** and this time he actually inserted a frowny face and Dean can't help but chuckle at it. Oh, Castiel is powered down, which means, he must be as drunk as Dean, or probably even more so, since he's not used to it.

 **"We'll figure this out, Cas"** and Dean decides to add a smiley face, to contrast his sad one. But Castiel doesn't smile back, nor does he even seem like he believes Dean. He lowers his head in his hands and Dean watches him deflate.

 **"Cas. Stop it."**

The angel looks down at his phone and shakes his head, picking it up. **"Stop what?"**

 **"This. Your self-loathing. We've dealt with crap before, and sometimes without your mojo, so we'll deal with this too. "**

So he'll be the one to carry them through this, and he's fine with that. The beauty of their relationship is that they take turns being the rock that each other needs, in whatever situation they're in. When Dean's low, Cas is there to lift him up, and he will gladly do the same for his angel.

Castiel sighs, leaning back in his chair. **"I am tired of being this way."**

The energy shifts in the room. It has gone from a level of uncertainty to a heavy feeling of hopelessness. When Castiel isn't in the game, when he's feeling defeated, Dean has to remind him that it will all work out, that they will always come out on top, no matter how bleak it may seem at the moment. And Castiel will nod, usually agreeing with him, and they do, eventually, get through it.

But now Cas is practically admitting defeat and it's making Dean's stomach flip.

Before he can respond with maybe just a few words of encouragement, Dean's phone chimes. **"I don't even feel like an angel anymore."**

And here it is: the drunken induced chatter of a sad angel and a lost hunter. He should be offering comfort, but he's well passed buzzed and he's hoping they could just pass out until his brother comes home, who will surely find out how to break this damn curse.

The look on Castiel's face, those arched eyebrows and pout is all but making his heart break.

 **"Why, Cas?"**

 **"My wings are broken. I keep losing power. I had a witch's curse on me. Lucifer was a huge failure. I'm just useless."**

Dean actually feels an ache in his chest reading this. He never even considered Cas' feelings during the whole attack dog spell thing. And the Lucifer fiasco, well, that probably still messes with him. It all happened so fast, this last year is a blur to Dean. From releasing the Darkness, to Cas saying yes to Lucifer, it all really does feel like a dream. Not to mention God himself crashing here in the bunker, making pancakes and watching his porn.

But this now, these last few months in the bunker has felt like he's finally awake. He's in control of his life. The roller coaster ride has ended and he can finally breathe.

 **"You're never useless. Mojo or not. You're Castiel"** and he finds a cute smiley emoticon with a halo and this actually makes the angel crack a very small smile - one so slight that if Dean wasn't staring right at him, he'd have missed it.

 **"And whatever happened or happens, you know we'll get through it as we always do."**

 **"I hope so."**

 **"You're more than just your powers, Cas. You're my best friend"** and he almost writes something he would most likely regret when he's sober so he just hits send before he does, hoping Castiel feels a little better from his words.

Their entire conversation in the car from months ago pops into his head, the one where he told Castiel that he's family, that he's like their brother, but there had been so much more he wanted to tell him at that moment, and yet, typical Dean was just too chicken shit to go through with it.

But he's drunk now, screw it, and with the actual smile on his angel's face, he has no reason not to.

 **"And it's more than that, Cas. You're important to me. I don't know what I would do without you in my life, and it has nothing to do with your powers" *smiley face* "I'm happy just having you by my side."**

His heart is racing, and yeah he knows his face is probably a new shade of red, but there's something easy about this, maybe because he's texting it, rather than saying it.

Sure, it sounds cowardly but it had always seemed that words failed Dean, and when he has a thousand things he'd like to tell Castiel, barely any of it comes out right.

 **"You're very important to me too, Dean" *heart eyes*** and that actually makes Dean laugh, though sadly, no sound is made.

Soon, they're both giggling and sharing the rest of the whiskey. The curse they're under now seems less ominous, as they retire to the couch and continue texting kind things to each other, words they should have always said but had been too scared to even attempt.

Cas tells Dean how proud he is of him, how he admires his bravery, his loyalty, and it all makes Dean beam. Knowing how he looks in Castiel's eyes is important to him. It always has been. He hated every time he let him down, every time he did something stupid to make his angel question him.

But knowing that Castiel thinks highly of him now, is filling his heart with warmth. He's oddly elated right now, despite all that is going on, and Dean's smiling like an idiot at his phone and at Cas, as Dean tells him what he loves about Castiel. His intelligence, his fierce bad-assery, his heart…

And that last one has Cas looking up at him, with that head tilt and puppy dogs eyes look that usually turns Dean into a pile of goo. He isn't sure if he should look away and slap his shoulder to tell him to stop, because it's so damn adorable. He wishes he could just grab his face and kiss him right now.

But he won't. They're drunk and the last thing he needs is to wake up with a severe hangover and a world of regret for making a move on his best friend, who just so happens to be drunk as well. So instead, he bounces to his feet and staggers over to Sam's laptop, scrolling through his Christmas playlist.

Dean rises from his chair and grabs Cas' arm, pulling him up. The tree still needs decorating and so Dean brings out all the bags filled with decorations that his mother bought and the two begin to work on the tree.

Dean's cracking up when they try to wrap the lights around the tree, both ending up getting tangled in the mess, but the greatest sight is seeing his angel so damned happy. He's smiling, laughing, and for the love of all things holy, it's the best part of the evening. Dean has never witnessed this before. It's beautiful, actually, and he just had to sneak a few snapshots from his phone to capture this moment.

When they finally finish with the decorations, Dean heads into the kitchen, Castiel following him. They spend the rest of the evening preparing the ham, making pies - one pumpkin and one apple, and he's even getting started on the eggnog when he notices Castiel has stopped cutting the carrots for the salad he knows Sam will insist on having, and he's just staring at the wall, seemingly lost in thought.

Dean turns on his heel and heads over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Castiel slowly makes eye contact with him and smiles. "Thank you, Dean."

And they're both in shock when they hear that. Dean quickly says, out loud, "Hey," and is smiling widely now for they finally have their voices back. He's gripping Cas' shoulder tighter and asks him, "For what?"

"Telling me those things. I think-I think I needed to really hear that. From you."

Dean's breath hitches, feeling a slight pang of regret for not opening up sooner to his angel. Bad ass warrior or not, he needs to hear how loved he is, just like everyone else. Dean turns to lean on the counter and crosses his arms, still smiling at Castiel.

"I guess I kinda needed to hear that stuff too."

Castiel chuckles, which is another adorable thing he does, and he tilts his head. "Takes losing our voices to finally do it, huh."

Before Dean could laugh at how true that is, his phone goes off. He glances briefly at Castiel before reaching for his phone.

It's Sam.

 **"Snow is bad, going to have to stay the night here, so we'll be back in the morning."**

He didn't even realize the time is well past seven, now. Dean approaches Castiel and shows him the text and soon they're both running up the stairs, still feeling a bit buzzed from the whiskey. Dean opens the door, unsure of what he's going to find and his eyes feel like they're deceiving him when he sees snow falling.

Snow.

It's not like it doesn't happen in Lebanon, but he hasn't really experienced it much while living here, and the fact that it's snowing on Christmas Eve makes it just a little bit more magical.

And so they both stand there, ignoring the winter chill that's biting their cheeks, and watch the fluffy white flakes fall onto the trees, the grass, and now their noses. The lights from the street illuminates the already fallen snow, as it stretches out like a blanket across the land.

There's something to say about complete silence. Even the noise in Dean's head seems to be quieting, letting peaceful thoughts surface and push down the more anxiety filled ones. Inhaling, he can sense the sedative energy around them. It almost smells different out here, and for some reason, he's appreciating it all now.

All the years he's spent with his angel, he finally feels like they're free to be themselves. They're Dean and Castiel, angel and hunter, and there really is no reason to hide behind uncertain feelings or insecurities. They love each other, and Dean's pretty sure the universe knows this as much as they do.

Dean glances at Castiel, who seems to be enthralled by the sight, and so he moves a little closer to him, wishing he could read his mind. But he doesn't want to ask him what he's thinking about all of this, he just wants to stand here, in what now is a welcoming silence, with his angel, and maybe, as he reaches for his hand and laces his fingers with Castiel's, all the words unspoken will be loud and clear.

And by the huge smile on Cas' face, he knows he hears him.


End file.
